Mummy and Sherlock
by Flammablepie
Summary: This is a collection of one-shots between Mummy Holmes and Sherlock. There will be Kid!lock/ Teen!lock and there will be a bit of Mycroft thrown in here and there.
1. Bullies

I always get the impression that Sherlock had been bullied while he was in school and that he desperately tried not to tell anyone but Mummy always noticed and tried to help.

I've experienced it, up to year 8/ grade 8. Then it sort of stopped, but I still get the occasional, 'Weirdo' or 'You're not normal' thrown in once in awhile (but now I suppose they're just teasing?). It's not very pleasant guys. If you're a bully, please stop.

Senior school is Year 7 up, so Sherlock is about 11/12 and Mycroft is in Uni. Regarding the lack of a father, I just sort of ignored him, up to you to decide whether he died or walked out on them or is just plain busy that it is difficult to involve himself in their lives.

Enough with the ramble, on with it!

* * *

Sherlock's mother had pulled up at the school gates and was waiting for him. She heard some loud voices and she rolled the windows down to eavesdrop.

"Stay away from us you freak!"

"You're such a weird person, we don't want you here!"

"You're not normal!"

She didn't think much of it until she heard her son's voice.

"Leave me alone! It's not my fault you're all so stupid!"

She decided it was time to intervene and she got out of the car. She strode over to the group of them and came up behind her dark haired son. They all immediately shut up. She gave a stern look at the group of them before guiding her son back to the car silently.

The ride back home was quiet. Mummy had hoped that things would be different after changing him to a new school for senior school — she was wrong. It was the same here as it was there. When they had arrived, Sherlock promptly went up to his room. She had decided to give him some time before going up to see him.

"Sherlock?" She whispered while knocking on his door.

"Go away, mummy," he muttered.

"Sherlock, please, come out," she pleaded, "come and walk with me in the gardens," she said gently

There was a silence before she heard some rustling followed by the turning of the lock. When he opened the door, she was faced with a slightly red eyed Sherlock. They were strolling, admiring the crimson autumn leaves when she spoke up, "Sherlock, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to, mummy, I could handle it myself," he muttered.

"Sherlock," she crooned, "You're not an adult, you can ask for help,"

She heard a small sniffle.

"From who? I'm all alone mummy. I'll always be alone," he tried to put on a neutral voice but it was failing.

Mummy felt a pang of guilt. What had she done wrong? Did Sherlock really think he was all alone? Maybe she should have done something more about the bullying? She had talked to the principal and the teachers but it didn't have much of an effect. She even changed his schools. She sighed — she was at her wit's end.

She gently grasped his shoulders and looked at him a little sadly.

"Sherlock, you have me and Mykee,"

"But no one in school likes me,"

"They don't understand you, Sherly, they're not worth your time. You're just too smart for them. You have a gift Sherlock. You're special. You'll always be better than them,"

She wiped a stray tear from his eyes and gave him a small smile. Sherlock beamed back.

"Now come, darling, I've baked some cookies,"

"I noticed," Sherlock grinned, remarking upon some flour stains on her sleeves.

She gave a small chuckle.

"I also bought a new puzzle for you, shall we try it out?"

Sherlock gave her a Cheshire smile, nodded and happily followed behind his mother.


	2. Car Ride

Sorry this is so short guys, I need to study

I've always wanted to learn both the Latin and English names of well, not plants, but sea creatures. Speaking of which, I think the next time they'll be paying a visit to the aquarium! :D

I didn't want to name any specific cities or colleges just cause. So feel free to imagine any setting you want :)

* * *

"Mummmmyyyyyy," Sherlock whined, "I'm boreeedddd"

"Sherlock, please, I need to mind the road,"

He looked at her and sulked. They were on the way to visit Mycroft, who was currently attending a Uni about an hours drive away from the Holmes' Manor. Sherlock was very excited about visiting his brother, he'd never admit it, but he missed him. Mummy was just as excited, however, Sherlock was causing her a bit of trouble.

"Listen, Sherly, why don't you tell me about the people in the passing cars?"  
"That lady is rushing. She's late for work and her son is having problems at school"

Mummy never knew how her boys did it but they always seemed to be accurate. Very accurate. Mycroft more so than Sherlock. He continued deducing people until they hit the highway where she sped up.

"You're going too fast, mummy," he complained, "slow down,"  
"Sorry, darling, I can't"

Sherlock continued to sulk. Oh, he was so bored. Then Mummy got an idea.

"Sherly, in my handbag, there's a copy of today's newspaper and a pen, why don't you try the crossword puzzle on the back?"

He rifled through her bag and found what he was looking for. He started doing the crossword, pausing every once in a while to stare into space and think. To Mummy's surprise, he had finished it in fifteen minutes, correctly and in pen. She could see he was starting to get bored again but she didn't have anything for him. To her relief, he started naming the various species of plants along the highway. Sherlock was doing fantastic, he could give both the Latin and the English names. Soon, the college came into view and he started squirming in his seat — eager to get out.

When they pulled up at the Uni, Mycroft came to greet them. Mummy had a few quiet words with him while Sherlock prodded a caterpillar with a twig. Mycroft took them on a tour of the place and then they all had some tea in a quaint cafe near by. Soon, it was time to go back home and Mummy was worried that the return trip would be plagued by Sherlock complaining that he was bored. But thankfully, a few minutes into the drive, he fell into a deep slumber.


	3. Sick

I'm sorry! I know I said it was going to be the aquarium but I wanted to get the facts and names and everything right and I need time. I've just had my workload increased because I just became head girl at my school so please bear with me. I can't promise it will be the next one or the one after that, but just that it will come :D

This is half a song-fic? a quarter a song-fic? It's just a tiny bit at the end. The song is called Sleepless Sailor by Kate Rusby. I heard it awhile back and I listen to it now when I can't sleep. Whenever I fall sick I always get nightmares. About me fighting dragons. It's frightening and I hate falling sick.

A kind of young Sherlock here? About 11/12-ish?

* * *

Mummy silently opened the door to Sherlock's room and peeped in. The curtains were drawn, blotting out the sun, only a few stray beams streamed in from the gaps. He was down with a fever and he didn't seem to be getting better. She watched him closely. He was tossing and turning and was mumbling some nonsense about a chemical equation.

"Sherlock?" She whispered, "Sherlock?"  
"Mmmmhmm. Mummy is that you?" His speech was slightly slurred.  
"How're you feeling? Any better?"  
"No," he turned away from her.

Mummy sighed. It had been three days and Sherlock showed no sign of recovery. She had no clue how it started, just that one day her son came back home and collapsed on his bed. When he didn't come down for dinner, she decided to check on him, only to find him burning up. She had managed to drag him out of bed to get him to change into his pyjamas and tuck him in to bed. She sternly told him that he was to not go anywhere or get out of bed. Mummy was certain that a few days of bed rest would get him well again but his high temperature didn't waver and now she was more worried than ever.

"I'm going to get make you some soup, I'll be back in a moment"

He muttered some reply and she promptly left to dig out some old family recipe for chicken soup. Sherlock, on the other hand, fell into a restless slumber tormented by nightmares.

_"RAISE THE SAILS! FIRE THE CANONS!"_

_"Captain it's no use! The Kraken's got us in her grip! We need to abandon ship!"_

_He contemplates silently for a moment when his thoughts were interrupted._

_"It's the curse! The curse from the loot we stole! She's here to fulfill it!"_

_The black flag danced as the wind howled and The Kraken's tentacles tightened around the ship, breaking it in half. Wood splinters everywhere, the sound of the screams of frightened men and the last few canons going off deafens his ears. Then he falls. He falls into the water. Into the abyss. Into oblivion._

_Sherlock._

_Sherlock._

"Sherlock!" Mummy screamed, "Sherlock, wake up, it's just a nightmare,"

He was thrashing about in his sleep and she managed to wake him up to calm him. The bowl of hot soup was on his bedside table and he sat up in his bed as Mummy offered it to him. Sherlock had succeeded to finish most of it without dripping any of it on the covers and sunk back into bed.

Mummy looked at him kindly, albeit a bit sadly as well. He had bags under his eyes, his hair was messy and sweaty, and he was also shivering. She needed him to sleep and not be plagued by horrid nightmares anymore. Then she started to sing softly.

_I once was a sailor, a young man and brave  
Da da dum, da da dum dee  
My nights were once sleepless,  
My peace I would crave  
Carry me home to the sea._

Sherlock cracked an eye open at her. It had been so long since he heard this song. Mummy used to sing this to him and Mycroft when they were younger. Her voice was sweet and soothing and slowly felt himself relax.

_Da da dum day, da da dum dee  
Drift away sailor boys on the deep sea  
Worry no more for you're safe now with me  
Rest in my arms and my sweet melody._

His thoughts grew hazy and he felt himself slipping away. Mummy's voice was growing more and more distant until it was replaced with peaceful dreams. She looked down at her sleeping son and planted a small kiss on his forehead before quietly leaving his room. If he wasn't better by tomorrow she'd need to call a doctor, but for now, he'd be alright.


	4. Stars

There is a little extra bit at the end, it was sort of what inspired me to write this. I know, I know. Sherlock doesn't think the solar system and the universe and all that are important, but surely, at one time, he must have.

I tried to be as accurate as possible, with the stars and the seasons, I went to look up star charts. I suppose this is sometime in Spring? Perhaps late spring with a young, 7/8 year old Sherlock.

* * *

The sky looked absolutely beautiful tonight. The Holmes' Manor was far enough from the bright city lights that you could actually see the stars at night. And tonight, there were no clouds in the sky to block them. Mummy had tried to get Mycroft out of this room to appreciate this fine night but he had said that he had a very important assignment due tomorrow that needed finishing. So she went over to Sherlock's room.

"Sherlock?" She called as she opened his door. Sherlock was sitting in the middle of his room with books opened and papers scattered around him.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"  
"Reading, Mummy, as you can tell" he replied, slightly annoyed.

She walked over to him and peered at the books around him. One or two about pirates, a few about crime (Mummy was slightly concerned) and a newspaper article about a recent murder.

_'Sherlock is always so interested in murder'_ she mused with a bit of worry.

"Come out to the gardens with me, darling, you can see the stars tonight"  
"Oh but mummy, the stars are boring! They're just burning balls of gas!"

She chuckled and tugged on his sleeve, which managed to get him up. She pulled his hand and led him out of his room and they both made their way outside. The air was clear and the wind was cool.

_'Mummy was right,'_ Sherlock thought, _'it is a nice night'_

They both stood in silence for awhile, appreciating the scene. The stars encased them. It was like sequins on soft dark velvet.

"Look here, Sherlock, you can see Orion," Bending down to his level she traced the sky with her delicate fingers, "the three stars in a row is his belt, and yes, here look, that's his shield"

He nodded. She whirled around.

"And here, that one there is called Cassiopeia. And over there is Ursa Minor"

Sherlock stood, a little stunned by the stars. They were beautiful and wonderful and he had never paid them any attention. Mummy had decided to lie down on the grass to look up at the sky and Sherlock followed suit.

"There's the Big Dipper, and over there, is the North Star"

Sherlock pointed at a random star, "And this one?"  
"Hmmm? Oh that one is part of Gemini, yes, follow it down, that is the rest of it"

They had stayed in a comfortable silence, looking up at the magnificent universe. Taking it all in.

_'They __**are**__ pretty, for burning balls of gas'_ he admitted to himself.

Sherlock soon drifted off to sleep and Mummy carried him up to his room. She put him down on his bed, and stood, contemplating whether to wake him up to get him to change into his pajamas. But he had cracked an eye open and sleepily wished Mummy goodnight, reassuring her he'd change. She kissed him on the head and shut the door behind her.

* * *

Extra bit:

After getting out of the cab at Vauxhall Arches with John beside him, Sherlock looked at the night sky and his mind went back to the time where he was just a little boy staring at the stars.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"


	5. Crying

My finals are in a week. Don't you guys just love the fact that I'm procrastinating and writing instead of studying? xD I can't wait for finals to be over, I've got this plot in my head but I can't seem to put it down on paper (_very_ frustrating) and when my exams are over I'll have more time to work on it.

By the way, this was written at 12am after an entire day of studying, forgive any... shortcomings or mistakes :)

As always, I'm going to leave it to you guys the reason she's crying. He's rather young here (which explains the stool and the problem with the tray) so about six-ish?

Anyway, enjoy! :D

* * *

Sherlock had just woken up and he was wandering the manor in his pyjamas when he heard something. A sniff. Followed by a sob. Then a choke. And another sniff. Oh he was concerned now. Was one of the servants crying again? Sherlock crept towards the study — the where the sounds were coming from. The door was ajar and he peeked though.

It was Mummy. She was crying. She had her head on the desk while she wept; her body shook violently as a new wave of tears came flooding out. He pushed the door open and padded over to her.

"Mummy?" He whispered as he tapped her shoulder.

She whipped her head up in surprise at his touch. She looked like a mess. Her hair was dishevelled, makeup smudged and her clothes were rumpled. Mummy's eyes were red and puffy. There were semi-dried tear trails going down her cheek with new ones overlapping them and tear drops on the wooden desk below her. Sherlock had never seen her in such a state before. He had seen her cry, yes, but not like this. He was very worried indeed.

"S-Sherlock," she managed to say.  
"Mummy, why are you crying?"  
"Oh Sherly," she whispered as she pulled him up onto her lap, "I-It's nothing, don't worry about it"  
"But Mummy — "

She cut him off.

"It's fine, darling "

She didn't want Sherlock to know. He wouldn't understand. Even if he did, he was still far too young to know. Mycroft as well. Sherlock will no doubt report back to Mycroft and she'd have to think up an excuse to tell him. But later. She'd deal with that later. Right now she needed to calm and compose herself so that Sherlock will stop worrying. She was about to say something to Sherlock when he suddenly jumped off her and muttered, "I'll be back" and ran off.

He ran towards the kitchen but not before he ordered the rest of the servants to stay away from the study and to not cause any problems. _'The last thing Mummy needs is more problems right now,'_ he thought. When he entered the kitchen, he called out for the cook and she promptly arrived.

"Could you please boil some water? And make some tea?" He asked her.

He wasn't too sure what to do in a situation like this, but whenever he was upset, Mummy would either take him for a walk or bring him hot chocolate. She didn't look as if she was fit for a walk and Sherlock was certain she'd prefer tea over hot chocolate so that's what he planned to do.

The cook nodded in conformation and went about her task. While she was busy, Sherlock pulled down (with the help of a stool) a jar of jam biscuits and set a few out on a plate. He threw in a few cookies for him to eat with her later. By the time the jar was back on the counter, the tea was ready. He had placed the plate on the tray and the cook carried it all the way to the front of the study door. That's when Sherlock took over.

While Sherlock was away, Mummy took the time to wipe her face clear of tears and fixed her hair and her clothes and she looked slightly more presentable when he got back. Very carefully, he walked in with the tray. It was a bit heavy and his arms were starting to shake. Thankfully, Mummy took the tray from him and set it on the desk. She knelt down and hugged him.

"Thank you, Sherly," she mumbled into his hair.  
"Does this mean you'll stop crying now?"  
"Yes, darling, I'll be fine" she faked a smile.

Sherlock had bought it and he beamed back at her. She got up and started to walk towards her steaming pot of tea when Sherlock stated bluntly, "The cookies are mine"

She chuckled and smiled a real smile at her dark-haired son. _'He'll know one day,'_ she thought, _'but not today'._ Today, she'll just enjoy her tea in the company of her cookie munching son and push all problems aside.


	6. Walls and Falls

So finals are over :) I have like three unfinished stories that need completing. *sigh* This is rather short, I apologize for that.

Sherlock is still so naive and innocent here, how old would that be? Seven? Eight? About there. Enjoy! :D

* * *

Mummy hummed a tune as she walked around the house. Spring had sprung, the birds were out, the yellow daffodils were in full bloom and the weather was delightful. Mycroft had insisted on shutting himself in his room with a book — Mummy noticed he'd been putting on some weight and made a mental note to try and get him out more. She made her way to Sherlock's room and rapped lightly on the door. Her small, dark-haired, pajyama clad son peeped out at her.

"Hello Mummy,"  
"Good Morning, Sherlock. It's a beautiful day out, care to come for a walk?"

He nodded and said meet her downstairs in a few minutes once he had changed. He was down quickly and they set off for the park near the Manor. Sherlock absentmindedly called out the binomial names of some of the plants they saw and Mummy remarked that she'd have to come out here some time to do some painting. They talked and walked along the path that led towards the river. There was a low wall and Sherlock gave a squeal of excitement as he jumped up on it.

"Sherlock, please do be careful,"  
"Don't worry, Mummy. I'm still rather small so my centre of gravity is lower, meaning the chances of me falling are not very high,"

She gave a grin but insisted that she held his hand as he progressed along the wall. Sherlock got distracted by an insect flying past him and leaned over a little bit too much, making him lose his balance. He game a small cry of surprise but was quickly scooped up by Mummy.

"Sherlock, I told you to be careful," she chided.  
"I know, but you caught me! I'm fine!"  
"What if I didn't? You could have fallen and gotten hurt,"  
"And you would have been upset?"  
"Yes, I would have been upset,"

Sherlock loved Mummy and hated to see her upset, especially if he was the cause of it. If him getting hurt would make her upset, then he would make sure he would not get hurt again.

"Then I won't climb anything high anymore," he said adamantly.  
"You can't live your entire life on the ground, Sherlock," she giggled at his childishness, "You should have some excitement, take some risks, do what you love and don't conform to others"

He gave what she said some thought.

"Promise you'll be there if I fall?"

She chuckled but Sherlock looked perfectly serious.

"Promise?"  
"Promise,"

Little did he know that many, many, _many_ years into the future, he'd find himself on another high wall. But no one would be there to catch him.


	7. Rain

Hi! :D Well, I'm not _too _happy with this but hey. I do love the rain. I love watching it and drinking hot chocolate or tea.

Sherlock's quite young here (Seven?) which is why Mummy does not use difficult words when explaining a profound (is it really? In a way, it is I suppose) topic to him.

* * *

It was one of those wet, rainy, miserable days. Rain fell on to the land, muddying up any soil it touched. Sherlock was absolutely bored out of his mind — Mycroft had lots of work and refused to entertain him. He was so desperate he even considered reading some of Mummy's old gossip magazines. He was wandering through the Manor until he came upon the sight of Mummy sitting in a plush armchair by the window, simply watching the rain fall.

"Mummy?"  
"Oh hello, Sherlock," she smiled.  
"What _are_ you doing?"  
"Watching the rain, darling,"  
"But why? It's boring,"

She chuckled, "Have you ever tried it?"

He paused.

"No," he admitted, "I haven't,"  
"Then come and join me,"

Sherlock took a seat in the armchair opposite his mother and looked out the window. The rain was coming down harder than before and he watched as each new drop created ripples in the puddles in the ground. At first he couldn't understand how Mummy could ever find it enjoyable, but after some time it became somewhat soothing — relaxing even.

"Look at how important the rain is, Sherlock,"  
"It looks like it's drowning the flowers,"  
"Yes, but it is needed is it not? The flowers may seem or feel like they're downing, but after the rain has stopped, they look more vibrant than usual, don't you find?"

He pondered about it for a moment.

"Yes, I suppose so,"  
"And we can learn something from here," She turned so she was facing Sherlock, "In life, there may be many times where we may be up to our eyes in adversities or problems and we feel like we're drowning. But we'll always push through. In the end, we'll be stronger than before,"

Sherlock took some time to process what Mummy had just said.

"What about the trees? They don't look like they're drowning in puddles,"  
"How do you think they got so tall, Sherlock? All trees were small once, but after all the rain and sun, they've grown taller and bigger. Just like how after all the bad things, you'd be bigger and stronger too,"

She paused.

"But don't worry, Sherlock. You'll understand me soon, perhaps when you're older. Just remember that, just like good things, bad things will pass as well. And both are needed in life,"

They went back to being silent but Sherlock's the gears in his head were grinding with what he had just heard. Mummy decided he had heard enough for one day and switched to lighter conversation. There they sat, until the rain stopped, enjoying each other's company.


	8. Tea

Mmmmmhmm. Tea. I love tea :) Particularly fond of green tea.

Child-like and curious young Sherlock. Seven perhaps?

* * *

Sherlock was out shopping with Mummy one day and he managed to wrestle his hand out of hers while she was distracted and wandered into a tea shop. The moment he set foot in the tea shop, his nose was assaulted by the fragrant scent of the teas blended together. The walls were lines with jars and jars and jars filled will all sorts of tea. Some names he's heard before — _English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Darjeeling, Ceylon._ But others — _Hibiscus,Green, Chrysanthemum, Yunnan, Masala _— he's never heard of them before. The dark-hair boy weaved his way through the shelves stocked with various boxes, jars, tins and tea sets. The elderly lady behind the counter smiled gently at him while she beckoned him over. In her outstretched hand was a sugar biscuit, the type he loved that Mummy always kept away.

_She's offering me a biscuit. Mummy said never to take food from strangers. But she has no reason to harm me. Or does she? It could be drugged. But sugar biscuit..._

His internal dilemma was interrupted by the shrill ring of the bell that hung over the door. He turned. Mummy.

"Oh my goodness," she said, relieved, "So this is where you were! I was so worried! I've told you not to wander off so many times!"

"Sorry, Mummy," he mumbled.

She looked to the old lady, "Thank you, for watching over him," Her eyes fell to the biscuit in her hand, "Go ahead, Sherlock, thank her as well,"

He broke out into a small grin and took the biscuit and started munching on it while muttering a _thank you_.

"Why a tea shop, Sherlock? Did you want some tea?"

"There are so many, Mummy. I don't even recognise some of their names," he admitted.

"Would you like to try some? I don't think we have some of these teas back home,"

He nodded and Mummy proceeded to pick out some teas. Back home, she brewed a little tea pots full of the various teas.

"Well, Sherlock, the best temperature for tea drinking, is 60°C. And the best brewing time is about 2 minutes," she told him as she poured out the contents of the first teapot, "This is green tea, Sencha,"

"Japanese?"

"Well, green tea actually originated from China, but yes, this blend is Japanese,"

He nodded, committing the information to memory. He took a cautious sip of the hot green beverage.

"It's bitter," he observed.

"Mmmhmm, next pot,"

They carried on with other teas that he had not tried yet.

Peppermint. _Refreshing._

Hibiscus. _Sweet._

Chai. _Spicy...A bit like Christmas. _

Chrysanthemum. _Sweet and sort of... flowery?_

Sherlock told Mummy his favourites and she always made sure to keep those teas in stock for him. And now, if you were to look deep in the cupboards of Baker Street, you'd find those blends tucked away for when he was in the mood for some different tea.


	9. Birthday

Birthdays! Cake! :D This is a bit less Mummy and a bit more Mycroft?

We (I?) don't actually know when he starts learning/playing the violin however in Andrew Lane's Young Sherlock Holmes, he starts learning at about fourteen. Learning the violin is difficult (especailly when you just get started), thank god my neighbours don't complain :D

* * *

Sherlock woke up to the sound of soft knocking on his room door. He opened his bleary eyes and hauled himself off his bed while pulling on his dressing gown. Mummy opened the door quietly and let herself in.

"Good morning, Sherlock. Well, it's afternoon now," she whispered while giving him a peck on his head, "Happy birthday,"

He looked up at her. _Oh right. It's my birthday._ He allowed himself a small grin and Mummy chuckled.

"Come downstairs when you're dressed, I have a surprise for you," she smiled and he nodded affirmative.

Mummy left him and he began to get dressed. He pulled on the dark grey dress shirt that he had many of in his closet along with a pair of dark jeans. A few months ago, Sherlock started dressing better and better, but forgoing the blazer and suit trousers that Mycroft so often donned.

_Fourteen. I'm fourteen. _

He walked down the wide, marble staircase that led to the main foyer. The main door was wide open and he could see a posh black car parked outside on the gravel in front of the fountain. Curious, he peeped out at the car from behind the door — it wasn't a car he recognised. It wasn't Mummy's and it didn't look like any of the cars that they had. So who was it?

"Ah, Sherlock, there you are," Mummy called out, "Head into the sitting room, I'm just going to pop into the kitchen to see how they're getting on with the food preparations,"

He cautiously opened the dark oak door and saw _him._

"Mycroft!" he said a little too cheerily and happily for his own liking, "What are you doing here?"

It had been _so _long since he had seen Mycroft. He had graduated university earlier than his peers and quickly acquired a job with the government doing god knows what. Ever since he had moved to London almost a year ago, Sherlock hadn't seen his brother. He would never admit it to anyone but he actually _missed_ his older brother and was very pleased to see him in the sitting room of the Holmes' Manor. Mycroft was dressed as impeccable as always with his three pieced suit and his umbrella by his side.

"It's good to see you, Sherlock. I do hope you are well," he gave a small grin, "Happy birthday, little brother. But I suppose you're not so little anymore. How has school been?"

"Better than expected. I thought I'd get picked on again when you left," he admitted, "But I've only encountered a few _very_ heated arguments,"

"But nothing..._detrimental_ to your health I hope,"

"No, nothing of the sort. The senior boys always came to break us up before things got out of hand,"

_'Good,' _Mycroft thought, _'I suppose paying off a few seniors in his school to... watch over him wasn't such a bad idea after all,'_

His thoughts were interrupted by Mummy coming in.

"Boys!" she smiled, "My dear boys," she walked towards them to give them a group hug, "So good to see you again, Mycroft. We'd like to hear how things have been going in London,"

They sat down on the plush sofas and Mycroft began to regale them with tales of his job. Just as he was finishing up, they were called to lunch. The dining table was laid out with all of Sherlock's favourite food and right in the middle was a large chocolate cake. They ate while discussing various affairs — _How Sherlock was doing in school, academically. What Mummy was getting up to and how her painting classes were going. Sherlock's experiments that went right... and his experiments that went wrong. The recent murder in Slough. Politics. _

After their plates were cleared, and the dessert plates brought out, Mummy cut each of them a slice of the cake.

"Mmmhm, Mother the cake is delicious," Mycroft remarked while cutting another slice for himself.

"Perhaps you should lay off the cake, Mycroft," Sherlock smirked, "Getting a bit... _round_,"

Mycroft glared. Mummy chuckled.

After all the eating was done with Mycroft led them back to the sitting room and reached behind the sofa at the far end where he concealed something.

"Happy birthday, brother," he beamed while pulling it out.

A violin.

_A violin. _

"Mummy commented one day that you wanted to take the violin up. I thought it would be an appropriate gift for your birthday,"

Sherlock was stunned. He silently took the fine wooden instrument from his brother's hands and held it in his.

"It's beautiful," he breathed, "Thank you, Mycroft,"

"The case, bow and any other things you shall need are in your room. Mummy has arranged for a teacher to come twice a week. Now, I'm afraid I must be off,"

Sherlock's face dropped a little. Mummy saw and she pulled him in by the shoulder, "You'll be back soon won't you, Mycroft," she smiled.

"Of course. Now, goodbye brother, Mummy,"

And he was off. He collected his umbrella leaning on the sofa and quickly sped off in his car. When he was out of the gates, Mummy pulled a box out from under the sofa. It wasn't wrapped or anything, it was just a plain wooden box. She handed it to him and he carefully opened it up.

"A skull!" he squealed, "Thanks, Mummy,"

"This _was _the one you wanted, yes? It was a bit difficult to read your eyes when we were in the store,"

"Yes, this is perfect,"

"Now go up to your room to see your case and bow," she said, sensing his anxiousness to go back upstairs.

Sherlock bounded up to his room, eager to see the rest of the things. The bow was resting on his bed and he picked it up gingerly. He brought the violin up to his chin, placed the bow on the stings and pulled. Needless to say, the servants thought a cat was being strangled in the gardens.


	10. Autumn Leaves

It just dawned on me that in about a year I'll be leaving home to do my A levels/Sixth form. That frightens me a little. Which is sort of the inspiration for this story.

It is not said, but it is speculated that Sherlock Holmes studied at Cambridge in Sidney Sussex college. I'm not sure what he studied. Chemistry maybe? Judging by his extensive knowledge of Chemistry.

This would place Sherlock at about seventeen/eighteen (But probably seventeen since he said he has about a year more to go)

* * *

Mummy looked up from her book and stared at the scene outside her window. The trees were on fire. Autumn had come and the green leaves were starting to lose their colour—changing into browns, golds, reds and oranges. The sun starting to set added to the vibrant colours. She sat there contemplating for awhile before shutting her book and going off to look for Sherlock. She found him in the library, flipping through some dusty and worn books in a plush armchair.

"Sherlock," she smiled in the gentle glow of the fire that warmed the large room.

"Oh hello, Mummy. What brings you here?"

"I was just observing the trees outside and it reminded me of you when you were younger,"

"Oh? How so?"

She looked down fondly at him, "You always used to love running through the falling leaves and jumping in the piles the gardener raked up. Oh, how he'd get so cross with you but the moment you gave him a cute, pleading look, he'd forgive you. Time and time again. Oh you used to be so tiny, look now, you're taller than me. Not so much a little boy anymore," she slowly trailed off as her eyes got misty.

Sherlock peered up at his mother, "Mummy, please don't get sentimental,"

She grinned, "Care to accompany your dear Mummy for a walk in the gardens? Just as before?"

"Of course," he smiled.

They walked along the garden path, enjoying the cool air and the comfortable silence. The leaves gently rained down on them and Sherlock reached up to catch one. He stared at it for a long time before closing his eyes briefly—memories flooding back to him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a pile of leaves, no doubt raked up earlier in the day by their loyal gardener. With a small chuckle, he ran towards it and jumped into the pile, sending the leaves flying everywhere.

"Sherlock," Mummy giggled, "I thought you thought you were too old for that,"

He gave a shrug, "I'll be leaving in about a year—I won't get to jump into leaf piles on the Manor grounds anymore during autumn,"

"I do wish you didn't have to go, it'll be just like when Mycroft left. Except now the Manor will be empty,"

It hit Sherlock that when he _did_ leave, Mummy would be alone. By herself. In the big Manor house. He made a mental note to call her frequently and to visit when he could. He was hoping to get into Cambridge — Sidney Sussex to be exact. A lot of people were wondering why he wanted to go to Sidney Sussex instead of the more renowned colleges but he just felt drawn to it.

"Do not fret Mummy, I'll visit when I can. We'll be back for Christmas and Easter, Mycroft and I,"

She gave him a small sad smile. _Silly child._ The calls will become less frequent, dinners and reunions will be missed once he became wrapped up in college life. She knew Sherlock had very few friends now but she assumed, she _hoped_, that he'd make more friends once in university. They enjoyed the rest of their walk in the gardens until the sun sank low in the horizon and darkness started creeping in.

That night, each sat up in their beds, silently contemplating the imminent future.


	11. Burnt

It has been some time hasn't it? Ah, sorry.

I always feel that even though Sherlock is so wonderfully smart, he is completely useless at domestic things. And Mrs. Hudson always seems to be the one bringing them food and clearing up the place. I've never written a cross Mummy have I?

Mycroft is probably at Uni somewhere so erm, thirteen year old Sherlock?

* * *

_It can't be too difficult right? I mean, all I have to do is turn the dial and put it on and wait...right?_

Sherlock stared at the stove. The pot full of cold soup and noodles sat idly and unassuming, waiting for him to make a move. Mummy was unwell and somehow all the servants seemed to have disappeared off somewhere. So the task of bringing her some food was thrust to Sherlock. He looked at the pot apprehensively and scrutinized it as if hoping it would give him some answers. The smooth steel of the pot only offered his own reflection as an answer— he pondered further. He had done some research beforehand and was pretty certain he could handle it. With a determined huff he set about his task.

Sherlock placed the pot on the stove and turned the dial. Little flames tickled the bottom of the pot and he gave a small smile, proud of his domestic accomplishment. It would take awhile for the soup to heat up so he went off to the library to look for some books.

Naturally, he lost track of time.

Mummy was feeling a bit better than she did that morning and so she decided to get up and stretch her legs. Pulling her dressing gown on, she walked through the corridor and started down the stairs when her nose was assaulted by a pungent smell.

_Sherlock._

She ran the way down as quickly as she could and burst into the kitchen. The pot was smoking and the room was hazy with the smoke. Mummy gave a few harsh coughs as the smog aggravated her already sore throat. She turned off the stove, opened the windows and turned on the fan before assessing the damage. Most of the soup had boiled away and only charred noodles remained at the bottom of the pot and the pot's base was completely blackened by the flames.

"Sherlock," she called aloud as she exited the kitchen, her voice still hoarse, "Sherlock, where have you gotten to?"

His ears pricked up at Mummy's voice and he dashed out to the hall.

"Yes, Mummy?" his eye fell upon her dishevelled appearance, "You should be in bed,"

"You shouldn't leave pots on stoves unattended," she said sternly

His eyes widened slightly, remembering the pot, "I do hope the damage wasn't too great,"

"My pot is ruined,"

"I — Well... Apologies, Mummy,"

She walked up to him and held him by his shoulders.

"Sherlock, it's _dangerous_,"

"I know — I"

"No, Sherlock. Why didn't you call any of the servants? If I didn't find it in time, there could very well be a fire in our kitchen right now,"

"I just lost track of time and forgot about it. I couldn't find any of the servants and I knew that you needed food so I just —"

"Sherlock," she sighed, "Thank you for trying, but please, until you learn to be more mindful, do stay away from the kitchen,"

He nodded morosely, upset that Mummy was cross with him. Who thought cooking, or in this case heating food up, would be so difficult?

Sherlock never did learn to become more mindful of food on the stove and so he steered clear of cooking and Mrs. Hudson always wondered how the man who could watch his experiments so closely on the Bunsen burner could be so incapable of cooking is own meals on a stove.

* * *

P.S My brother has a blackened pot, thanks to me.


	12. Paint

Sorry for not updating sooner! And sorry for it being so short!

School is keeping me rather occupied and busy, but I'll try my best to update regularly.

* * *

Mummy was in the conservatory with a canvas and a box of oil paints in front of her. Ever since Sherlock started to attend kindergarten, the house had been every quiet but she enjoyed the extra time she got. She had been meaning to get some painting done and today the lighting in the conservatory looked absolutely perfect. She started with a few brushstrokes here and there, and then continued on with various shades of green, trying her best to capture what she saw. Mummy paused for a moment, vaguely hearing the car pull up in the drive way and she waited for her dark haired son to come bursting through the doors.

"Mummmmmmyyyyy!" he squealed happily as he ran towards her.

She chuckled, "Hello, Sherly. How was your day?"

"It was pretty good, but then I made the teacher upset,"

"Oh dear, Sherlock. What did you do _now?_" she asked with concern.

"All I said was that her sparkly diamond ring wasn't on her finger anymore and then she started to get upset. I don't understand,"

She sighed, put her brushes down and pulled Sherlock onto her lap. She would have to explain it properly to him some time.

"Just don't say it again, okay, Sherlock?"

"Yes, okay Mummy," he mumbled.

His eyes wandered over to the canvas. It was far from finished but it still looked good for a work in progress. He stuck his finger into one of the greens on the pallet and sniffed it.

"Sherlock," his mother berated, "Don't smell it!"

He giggled and smudged the paint on her nose. Mummy shrieked in surprise and Sherlock quickly jumped off her lap and ran off.

"Sherlock!"

But he was long gone by then, his small feet going as fast as they could as he sprinted up the stairs to his room. With an exasperated sigh, Mummy wiped the paint off her nose and went to search for him. She opened his room door and before her eyes even had the chance to scan the room; her knees were assaulted by small wooden sword. She looked down at Sherlock with his oversized pirate hat and giggled. He whacked her once again and she mentally remarked that there would be a bruise. Mummy scooped her son up into her arms.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked.

"Well, yes I suppose,"

"Would you like it if I made you a snack?"

"Yes, please," he beamed, "Chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk?"

She chuckled, "Let's see what's in the pantry,"

The servants all smiled quietly when they heard his voice ring out some time later.

"One more, cookie? Please, Mummy!"


End file.
